A Lot of Random Shite
by TheOnyxDragon12
Summary: A random collection of one-shots, each being different. Featuring: Electric Cherry, In Which Soap Gets Pistol-Whipped, Seriously Intense Underwater Cuddling, and many more if I get suggestions. Warning: Anything and everything may happen.
1. Electric Cherry

**(A/N: I got really bored on Saturday night. [I got sick earlier so now I've just got this build up of energy that I haven't spent.]**

**So I read a little bit around the forums, compiled bits and pieces of a conversation into a poem, added some of my own bits and BOOM, BABY! Your Electric Cherry jingle was born.**

**This is a result of my late-night genius. Please don't kill me in my sleep if it's awful. Or if you might want me to continue with song-related one-shots.**

**They really need to make a jingle for this... Like seriously.**

**It's written to the tune of Macklemore's _Thrift Shop._**

**-The Onyx Dragon)**

* * *

**_This ain't no ordinary berry!_** **_It's Electric Cherry!_**

* * *

_I'm gonna pop some caps,_

_Only need 20 hundred in my pocket!_

_I-I'm a shock em while I'm reloadin'_

_This is really awesome!_

Walk up from the box like whuddup? I got big shocks.

Nah, I'm just just pumped on this shift filled juice box!

Blasting the fiends so damn stressfull

But now we like:

"Reload! Ha! Them Zombies got a bolt full!"

Rollin' in Hell deep, headin' to the E.C.

Stained all in blood, 'cept my gangsta shoes, those are clean

Draped in sharp knives, freak sacks moanin' next to me

Sure glad I bought this, stings just like PHD.

_**(BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!)**_

But shit, it was 2K cents!

Coppin' it, drinkin' it, bout to go and get my shockin' in,

Passin' up on the Doctor's Shit,

Someone else go and Flop on it

But me and my EC be ampin' it man

I am stunning and shocking and

Saving my reloadin' ass I'm hella happy

That's a bargain, bitch.

Let's reload, electric style.

Let's reload, electric style.

No for real, Cherry does this all;

I shine the brightest smile. _**(Thank you!)**_

An AK-47 and some Galva-knuckles,

Reznov's Revenge now that I had pack a punched it.

I got cornered, they died in the corner.

I looked around the room, zombies didn't scream anymore.

"Hello? Hello? Zombies, where'd you go!?

You ain't got nothing on my game!

Yeah, Cherry's hella dope!"

I'll toss a mag into the cell doors,

and then the undead will be like,

"Run! He's gonna reload!"

_I'm gonna zap some heads,_

_Only need 2000 on my scoreboard._

_I - I - I'm shocking, looking for a power-up_

_This is Electric Cherry!  
_

_Don't need no PHD,_

_This blasts Electricity,_

_Reload the Ammo, Cock your gun,_

_Now its time for some shocking fun!_

_But be warned it doesn't last,_

_But when you go down you're in for a blast!_

_You've got them zombies swarming in the lots,_

_Blast them with your Gigawatts!_

_  
I'm gonna shock them dead_

_Got 20 clips left in my mag_

_I'm busy killin'_

_Waitin' for a re-stock_

_This is Electric Cherry!_

* * *

**_This ain't no ordinary berry! This is Electric Cherry!_**


	2. Revenge From Afar

(A/N: My original plan for this one was to pick up from the events in Moon, and head into Origins with this fic. But alas, another idea with potential was dropped and it will stay here as a one-shot until 1] someone wants to adopt it from me or 2] I decide to write on it.

So... Enjoy, I guess.

Oh, and cyka (soo-ka) is Russian for b*tch.

-The Onyx Dragon)

* * *

Dempsey's POV

"Enjoy jourselfes!" Dick-thofen's demonic voice rang out joyfully as I found myself flat on my back, on a dusty patch of ground, in my body once again. "I'll be back to destroy jou later!"

I flexed my fingers. You couldn't even enjoy that physical sensation of moving in the Aether. It was weird, floating around as a soul without a body. It almost felt like we were dead. I absolutely hated being in the Aether. The other guys, Samantha and I were basically cramped together, trapped in some place I can't even begin to describe while Richthofen was off doing who-gives-a-fuck.

But that's not the worst part of what Richthofen did to us. He returned our memories. I remembered EVERYTHING. And it felt like a knife in my windpipe.

I had a beautiful brown eyed wife named Teresa. And a pretty little girl too. Abigail had my bright blue eyes and her mother's long dark hair. She would've been a knockout in high school. I choked back a sob as my throat started to constrict painfully. I wasn't there for Abby. I couldn't be. I dreamed about the "Jugger-girl" but I had a wife! My family was probably dead... And it was all Richthofen's fault.

I blinked hard, one dusty tear running down my face as I grit my teeth, curled into a fetal position, thinking to myself. _Why did he have to be such a sadist? Why did he have to torture me? I'm the only one with something to lose. Takeo only cares about his honor and he MURDERED his family, Nikolai's a drunk, and then there's Samantha. She has nothing left to lose because it's... Already gone. _I looked down in guilt. _Just like me..._

I blinked, and wiped my grime-covered face, before looking up at the kiddo. She was asleep, eyes closed and... in her own body! How?

Takeo coughed roughly. The guy didn't look so good. He was awfully pale. I walked over to the log he was laying on, wheezing from all the smoke around us.

"Poor Dempsey, forced to breathe in stench from Takeo's boots," Nikolai slurred, sitting down at the base of a cindering tree. He was out of vodka, so his slurring was because he's done enough shots for a lifelong buzz, or he was losing it like the rest of us.

"You wirr-" Just then, Takeo broke into a violent fit of coughing, and I held him still. He was shaking violently. "Arigato."

Nikolai shivered. "T-that Richthofen will pay. We will make him, da comrades?"

I nodded, and Takeo murmured a faint "Hai." Or maybe he was just choking on another breath.

Nikolai looked at the FN FAL laid in his hands. "How did we get here? Everything made more sense before I was sober."

I threw another stick on the fire Takeo had started. "How much do you remember?"

"A pyramid. Richthofen talking in a really odd voice... Well, odder than the crazy one he's already aquired," Nikolai continued. "The earth burning... Hell pig going for my throat like sixth wife, and then nothing."

I unscrewed the cap of a water canister, refreshing my mouth. "I'll catch you up, Commie."

* * *

I grit my teeth in anger as the zombies' glowing yellow-orange eyes turned bright blue. "RICHTHOFEN, YOU DIRTY LYING TRAITOROUS BASTARD, GET YOUR SOUL BACK IN THAT NAZI BODY SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

I'm so mad at him I can't even think of a fitting insult, but you-know-who tutted. It ticked me OFF. Somehow, the fact that he was in Samantha's body made me even madder. It was pedophilic and it made me think of my daughter Abby-and I REALLY WANT TO TEAR HIM IN TWO! "Now, now, Dempshey, mind jour language. Zere are children in zee room."

As if on cue, Samantha giggled as she poked a dead crawler zombie. "I mished zee vay he crawled on zee floor! He vas so cute! Like... Fluffy..."

I honestly did feel bad for the kid. She didn't deserve all of this. He took her father, he destroyed her home and future, he corrupted her and the only reason she tried to kill us is because she knew what Richthofen was going to do. Well the last part wasn't so great but at least she tried to warn us. Although she could've done it in a way other than murder, but that's not the point! Richthofen was a sick fuck who deserved to die, skip the incarceration! You guys know, that, right?

_"Men get arrested. Dogs get put down."_ The words echoed in my head as I loaded one of the last clips into my M16.

I looked back at the closed pyramid. Four tubes, one glowing yellow, one blood red, one navy blue and a royal purple, had popped up at each of its corners.

"FEASHT ON ZEIR FLESH MEIN CHILDREN!" Richthofen cackled as the zombies collectively growled at us. We were surrounded and running out of lead fast. Everything happened so quickly.

I watched Takeo go down; they were too fast for his aged body. He was able to glance at me though his squinted brown eyes. "Honor me! End Richthofen!" The light drained out of them, and his blood drained onto the floor.

Samantha in the Doc's body screamed. "Mr. Takeo! I promise! I will kill that nasty Richthofen for taking everything away!"

Nikolai threw a QED. A red ammunition box popped up. I cursed under my breath. My last spare mag was gone.

Sam went down kicking and screaming, and pulled out her two CZ75's. "If I fall, you tumble with me, puppets!"

"Dempsey!" Nikolai shouted, shooting the Wave Gun. "Run! It is too late for them! Take that you undead cykas!" He backed up a few feet, just to get jumped by a second horde. "I feel stupid..."

I turned. The astronaut grappled me. I couldn't get a hold of my knife or my gun. He teleported me to a place purely white.

* * *

"So... We all died?" Nikolai summed up.

"Hai," Takeo confirmed. "And resurrected."

"Betrayed by Benedict Arnold himself," I spat, holding Samantha. What? For all I know, she might get eaten by coyotes or something.

"What now, comrades?" Nikolai asked, lacing up his combat boots.

"I have no plan," Takeo admitted modestly.

"That's kinda been Ed's job," I agreed.

Samantha giggled creepily. She was a freaky kid, but still a kid that deserved a life. "They don't know a secret."

I looked at her. _Whaddya mean by that, kid? _

"May we be permitted to know this secret?" Takeo asked. He was always so respectful. No wonder people trusted him easily.

"As long as jou promise not to tell Richthofen," she said slowly.

"We promise," We all said one at a time.

"Good," She said, pleased. "The secret is that there is something inside of that temple. Something strange that gave me power, and gives him power, too. You too, Dempsey."

I swear she was staring into my soul, reading me. Did she know about you guys too? I know Ed heard voices, but... I don't think you guys are like that. You guys are actual people (or aliens or something), some nicer than others. Or maybe you guys are just a figment of my imagination, my own type of crazy caused by the element. ...Nope. No matter how hard I try to say that you guys AREN'T real, my gut instincts say you are.

Man, if Nick or Tak could hear me, I bet they'd think my gears were as loose as Richthofen.

"Um," was all I could reply. I thought fast. "But I never touched the temple."

"Jou don't hafe to," She said simply. How does she know so much? "Zey choose jou. Zey chose me. Zey chose Edvard. But zat's not zee point. I shtill hafe zee gift. I can shtill feel zee power in my veins."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Nikolai was scared. It was just the look on his face when he asked, "This gift... What is it?"

Samantha laughed, like a normal child this time. "Zey liked how I played vis my dolls, how I zought of new ideas and created vis zem. So zey gave me zat power."

"To alter the world?" Takeo inferred.

Samantha nodded. "Zey gafe Edvard zee power to rule. Zey vanted him to hafe zee power for a little bit, so zen somevone else could take it and deshtroy zee vorld as vee know it."

I absorbed all of that. "So you're saying that someone after Edward is going to make the universe implode or whatever?"

She nodded. "And my job is to repair it, to create another world where the mistakes made here were never made again. To give the new world order."

I stared, shocked. "But what about us?! What about the rest of the world?"

"This is bigger than us and the rest of the world," She replied. "As far as I know, us four will be in the new world." She glanced at Takeo for a minute, like he might not be there or something. What's up with that? "As for the rest, they are zombies. That is what they are trying to prevent. They do not want Group 935 to discover the element, ever."

"When does this Apocalypse start?" Nikolai said, more sober than ever.

Samantha's eyes were dim. Maybe she wasn't just a kid after all. "The end of the world has already started. It is in our hands to finish it."

* * *

(Ending Note: So, if anyone else wants to dive deeper into this idea and finish it, just PM me or leave it in the box below. More than one offer is accepted.

-The Onyx Dragon)


	3. Coffee

(A/N: No one caught the Illuminati reference last chapter?

I wrote this to be purely 100% not serious. So if any fan boys stumbled upon this and rage, I will laugh.

One Shot Summary: The Lieutenant likes music, a lot. But not in public. So what happens if the lucky Captain MacTavish walks in? [It's a "walk-in-on" prompt.]

-The Onyx Dragon)

* * *

Le Captain's POV

At first, I thought Simon was writing a letter to someone. He was over his desk, furiously scribbling in pencil on a page of yellow lined paper, the tear-off kind that you rip out of 35 cent notebooks. But I realized an envelope was absent, so he must've been venting.

I leaned in the doorway, crossing my arms and my right leg, watching. He did this every now and then. When something stressed him out or pissed him off, he sat at the desk and wrote. I never really asked, seeing it as the cheapest method of therapy besides talking it out. Ghost never did that much, though. He's not really the vocal type.

I just don't get him, I thought, staring. He seems so focused, passionate even, when writing. But he's almost not even there when someone tries to talk to him? He's a fucking labyrinth.

I understood less when he started singing.

Simon stopped abruptly, and noticed me in the doorway. His mask was folded up to above the tip of his nose, and his shades sank loosely on the bridge, nearly exposing his green eyes.

I had an uncanny knack for reading expressions. Either that, or a furrowed brow and angry, narrowed eyes blatantly scream frustration. He was giving me that "You woke me up at 3 A.M. without coffee! What the Hell do you want!?" look.

"Yes?" Ghost said, icily. (Here's a loose translation: "John, blow off. I'm on the rag and I need to express my pent up feelings.")

I waited a bit before I replied airily, "Your pencil sounds angry."

He grunted like a pig. ("Get to point already.") Where's the fun in that?

"Oink."

Simon nearly curled his mouth into a smile. ("Fine. You made a joke that my hard arse self won't laugh at, but you can stay. For now.") I was making progress. Slow, but surely progress.

He started to tap his pencil like a steady drum beat. Every so often he glanced at me. We were playing the waiting game again. But eventually Riley would say something. He always does. I just have to push his buttons a bit.

"Are you drawing a scantily clad woman?" I inquired.

"What!? No!" The look on his face was priceless.

"Let me see!" I lunged for the paper.

"John!" Ghost shouted, diving for the floor.

I tackled him. "Let me see!"

He rolled like an alligator until he realized that I wasn't going to let go. "I can't," Ghost finally admitted sheepishly.

"Why not?" I breathed down his neck.

"Because I can't," he whispered, avoiding my eyes. It's been awhile since I've seen this side of him. No matter how tough of an aura Simon puts off, I will always know that he is a secret wallflower at heart.

I chuckled at the thought. "That's a load of shite."

He was silent for a bit, staring at the door. "Hi, Gary."

I whipped my head up, expecting to see the sergeant. But there was an empty gray hall, and it dawned on me too slowly when Ghost was quick. He took the opportunity to wriggle out out of my hands. That sneaky bastard!

Instead of running out in the hall, Riley closed the door. "Will you leave if I finally show you?"

It was a compromise. So why not? "Fine, Simon."

He smoothed ran his fingers through his hair, and tossed the paper to me. I unraveled the bent corners, and stared at it. Then back to Ghost. And then at the paper. What was on it, really.

It was Ghost's handwriting. Beautiful, graceful, rich dark cursive lines were scrawled ornately across the paper.

"What is this!?" I exclaimed.

"A hobby of mine," Simon answered sheepishly. "Writing song lyrics as calligraphy."

Simon was so funny sometimes. "This is ace! Can I read it out loud?"

"Um," Ghost paused uncomfortably.

"I mean, I don't have to," I said, laying the paper on his desk. "I'll leave now."

"Wait! Why'd you come in here in the first place if you were just gonna waltz out!?" Ghost questioned.

"Because," I drawled, leaning out of the doorway again. "I actually care about you some days."

He smirked. "Some days?"

"If you help Roach fix the coffee pot, I'll feel concern for you all the time. Seriously though. He's going to burn himself."

And with that, Ghost actually laughed for once and stepped out of his room. "Bloody bastard."

"I love you too, Jerkface."


	4. The Awkward Bathroom Moment Prompt

**(A/N: ****Note to self: No more staying up until five worrying about SATs, the next year of school, or my tendency to tear my life plans to shreds. {I'm literally in a quivering mess. But fanfiction is cheaper than "therapy," so I'll have to endure.}**

** And make this into an animation, if possible. Just for teh lulz.**

**-The Onyx Dragon)**

* * *

Tank couldn't believe his ears. Richthofen was singing. SINGING. And he was good! (Well, decent. The Jugger-girl was still better by far.)

But that wasn't the worst part. He was singing in English, and Dempsey didn't even know the song.

"Takeo!" The Marine cupped his hand as he whispered roughly to the Japanese man.

("Und ve danshed all nacht to ze best song efer!" The Doctor rang out before humming to rest of the line.)

"Hai?" He responded, looking up from his reflection in a newly cleaned katana.

"Uh, what's with Doc?"

Takeo looked over his shoulder, glanced over at Richthofen, and shrugged. "The man must be joyous."

The schizophrenic psycho suddenly jumped up and clicked his heels together, walking out from a beautifully carved wooden staircase. "The Doc is here, in the flesh!"

"Where's my wodka!?" Nikolai slurred.

"It's in your hand," Dempsey stated plainly, watching the drunkard sway into the lobby from the theatre door while the Doc happily nailed the boards onto the broken doorway under the stairs, drumming out a rhythm.

"Hey Doc, you join a choir lately? What's with the singing?" Dempsey called.

"I'm so happy!" The Doc usually had a really creepy smile, but Tank had to admit, this one took the cake. It was like the Doc was tripping on acid or something.

"Uh... Did you smoke weed or do shrooms?" SOMETHING was off. Tank had no idea what, but something was wrong. Starting with that hella creepy smile.

"Nein," Said Kraut snapped. "I've inhaled enough laboratory fumes over my lifetimes; I need the rest of my lung cells, danke."

Tank stared at the Nazi, clutching his gun, and wondered whether or not Richtofen had dived off the deep end of sanity again. "Uh... So what does singing have to with any of this?"

"Silly Dempshey," Richtofen beamed like a little ball of sunshine before swiping his black gloved finger across the tip of Tank's nose. The Marine snarled viciously. "How do you Americans say it? 'Lighten up!' Und jou shall be enlightened! Think fast!"

The Doc threw something small at him. Dempsey caught in with amazing reflexes. It was a small, metal box, painted red. Dempsey had never seen anything like it in his lifetime. He's seen teleporters, ray guns, Zombies, and a flaming German shepherd, but a little red box with a white circle center was new.

Dempsey stared at it like it might explode. "What the Hell is this?"

"The voices say it is an 'I-Pod,'" The Doc answered.

"Uh huh. And where'd you get it?" Dempsey asked, weary.

"Samantha, of course!" The Doctor beamed.

Dempsey leaned casually on the wooden rail of the staircase, and gave him the look. (The one that said, "You crazy motherfucker.")

"You do know that we shouldn't take stuff from Sam, right? Especially small, suspcious devices?" he continued, throwing the "I-Pod" back at Richtofen.

Ed adjusted his hat. "Yes, but I already reverse engineered this device. I'm not a complete dummkopf."

"That's debatable," Dempsey muttered under his breath.

Ed carried on as if he hadn't heard. "It is merely a compact way to store and play back audio files. It is much more efficient to use than a radio."

"Whatever you say," Tank grunted before shuffling away upstairs. If that thing exploded, he didn't want to be anywhere near it.

Just as he was reaching the bathrooms, Dempsey heard a loud clatter hit the tile, and German swearing. Richtofen must have dropped the thing.

"Hi my name is," the device sang at maximum volume. "Slim Shady."

"Well hello Slim Shady," Richtofen replied.

_Did the Doc really have to have a conversation with an inanimate object while I'm trying to pee?_ Tank thought, locking the stall door.

Loud sparks could be heard, echoing throughout the entire building. Then metal grinded on metal.

"BITCH IMMA KILL YOU."

"Fucking Richtofen and his fucking experiments," Dempsey muttered awkwardly while adjusting his fly.

Then, a zombie just had to spawn right outside of his stall.

And his pants were still at his ankles.

**FIN.**


	5. I don't even know anymore

**(A/N: Please skip this chapter. Please. ****Long story short, it was one of those plot generator challenges given to me by a friend...**

**This one is inticipated for mature audiences. So if you have no idea what any of these words mean, please for the love of God, don't ask your parents ofr the definition.**

**I REGRET NOTHING.**

**-The Onyx Dragon)**

* * *

**_The Curse Of The Viscous Dildo_**

Whilst investigating the death of a local Archer, an Irish Captain called Soap MacTavish uncovers a legend about a supernaturally-cursed, viscous dildo circulating throughout a bondage club. As soon as anyone uses the dildo, he or she has exactly 12 days left to live.

The doomed few appear to be ordinary people during day to day life, but when photographed, they look buck naked. A marked person feels like a thick werewolf to touch.

Soap gets hold of the dildo, refusing to believe the superstition. A collage of images flash into his mind: an orgasmic Toad balancing on a horny Archer, an old newspaper headline about a boating accident, a hooded lizard ranting about penises and a drinking well located in a sultry place.

When Soap notices his testicles have werewolf-like properties, he realises that the curse of the viscous dildo is true and calls in his friend, a Lieutenant called Ghost Riley, to help.

Ghost examines the dildo and willingly submits himself to the curse. He finds that the same visions flash before his eyes. He finds the orgasmic Toad balancing on a horny Archer particularly chilling. He joins the queue for a supernatural death.

Soap and Ghost pursue a quest to uncover the meaning of the visions, starting with a search for the hooded lizard. Will they be able to stop the curse before their time is up?

* * *

**Critical Acclaim for _The Curse of the Viscous Dildo:_**

_"This is actually pretty scary. I'll never be able to look at another viscous dildo for as long as I live."_

\- The Daily Tale

_"Oh please! There's nothing scary about an orgasmic Toad balancing on a horny Archer. Are we supposed to feel spooked?"_

\- Enid Kibbler

_"The hooded lizard really freaked me out."_

\- Hit the Spoof

_"I hope Soap and Ghost get married."_

\- Zob Gloop

_"The fuck, mate!?"_

-Simon R.


	6. In Which Soap Is Pistol-Whipped

**(A/N: More prompt challenges, yay. In this case, it was the "Change the Cliche" prompt. Basically, you take a random over-used trope, a relatively original idea and an AU tag [like the ones you would find on AO3, ex. "High School AU"] and put them together to see how interesting things get.**

**Trope: A major protagonist commits a crime, but is actually innocent.**

**Idea: A group of friends go to see the Brazillian Carnival for vacation.**

**Tag: Shapeshifter AU.**

**Let's get this party started. Oh, and this takes place between the end of Modern Warfare One and the beginning of MW2.**

**-The Onyx Dragon)**

* * *

It was supposed to be a simple mission. All John "Soap" MacTavish had to do was guard another foreign President from any supposed terrorist attacks. It was his job as part of the 141, so he really couldn't complain about it. Not that he would, anyways.

Sitting in a window with a rifle and a bottle of Scotch is better than typing in missile codes that would save about forty million lives, he supposed before readjusting himself in his seat and taking a swig out of the bottle sitting in the window sill.

Every few moments, Soap would look into the scope of his gun and examine the windows of the neighboring brick buildings along the street through the red crosshairs. If he saw anything uncanny, he had to radio his Lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley or wave to the new F.N.G down the street in the red building, Sergeant Gary "Roach" Sanderson, before taking a shot.

Seeing as every window was clear, Soap took his eye out of the scope as parade's music began to rip through the air. Trumpets brightly rang out as confetti poured off of the rooftops into the concrete below, and horseshoes collided with the pavement.

Everything looked so safe and picturesque. It was a beautiful, bright blue day with only a single, harmless white puffy cloud floating in the sky. Plants growing on the balconies radiated in the sun as families waved to the carriage drivers from above. Black draft horses whinnied and shook their gold tassles. Children had painted their faces, and laughed while they dived between their parent's legs. Vendors called out in the streets to advertise their wares. The only disturbance happened to be two female turistas in a store who were bickering about a pair of sunglasses on a turnstile rack.

"I wish everythin' were _really_ this peaceful," Soap mumbled to himself. He knew the real price of this beautiful day. Life was only calm because someone was keeping it that way. And that someone was him.

Soap checked the windows through the scope again.

Static crackled on his hip before Ghost's voice broke into the room. "Is everything clear for the moment, mate?"

Soap subconsciously nodded and peered out the window again. "Aye. What about Roach?"

"He says everything is fine. Hey John, can you keep a secret?"

Soap raised one eyebrow, wondering what Riley was going on about. "Depends on what it is."

"The music in this country gives me the urge to dance. Stop laughing! I'm _serious!"_

The Scotsman continued to chuckle, however. "So how are the _senoritas_ at street view?"

"Absolutely lovely. It's a hip shaking perfection down here." Soap could hear his grin through the radio.

"Lucky," Soap smirked. "The aerial view is nowhere near being 'up close and personal'."

"I'll ask Price not to stick you in the shaft next time," Ghost offered. "And keep your eyes off of the ladies. The white float up ahead is the President's."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Soap huffed before getting back onto his objective. Just like the_ last_ fifty times, every window was clear.

The crowd began to cheer louder, and Soap could see the President waving to his citizens in a white tuxedo out of his peripheral vision. He occasionally took candy out of a bucket and threw it down into the streets. Children swarmed to get a piece before it could clatter on the pavement. Then he focused on windows farther up the lines near Roach.

"Soap, _why_ are you aiming at the President? Do you see anything off?" Ghost asked urgently.

Soap knit his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm not looking anywhere near there. Are you sure it's not Roach?"

"It's not him. You're in the bright blue one, right?"

"Aye," Soap answered quickly before waving out of the window with his Scotch in hand.

"I see you waving. _Bloody hell!"_

"What?" Soap nearly shouted into the radio.

"I'm seeing double! There's_ two_ of you!"

"No way in Hell that's me," Soap said unbelievingly. "Where's this doppelganger at?"

"Orange two-story house, second bottom left window. Let me radio Price," Ghost spoke quickly. "The Prez may be compromised."

"On it!" Immediately, Soap got his sights on target and examined the exact window Ghost had described. It was just like the room he was sitting in, except a pair of curtains whished as the wind blew. And it was completely empty.

"This better not be a _fucking_ joke, ya numpty!" He growled into the radio. "What the-!?"

The only reply he got was static.

"I'm afraid it's not a joke," a voice identical to his own whispered in his ear.

Soap barely had enough time to turn around in his chair before the butt of a pistol collided with his forehead.

He dropped to the ground, nauseous. Soap could see his attacker's boots in double vision. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. There were four - no, two arms picking up his gun and aiming his gun at the man he was supposed to protect. One gunshot rang through the air, and several thousand screams followed after. His vision was growing dark at the corners as a single brass shell fell to the floor.

The last thing John "Soap" MacTavish saw before he lost consciousness was his own face grinning venomously above him, and then the bottom of a boot above his nose before the black swallowed him whole.


End file.
